Memories Written White
by Fourteen Lines
Summary: The title "Memories written white" is an allusion to the maxim put forth by French writer Henry de Montherlant, "Happiness Writes White". After the final battle, Tifa fell into the abyss and Vincent dived in with a promise to bring her back to Cloud. Beta-Reader: BabyKay47.
1. Chapter 1

**Memories Written White**

**Author's Notes:** The title "Memories written white" is an allusion to the maxim put forth by French writer **Henry de Montherlant**, "Happiness Writes White" _(Originally "Happiness writes in white ink on a white page")_ in 'The Pursuit of Happiness: A Letter to Thomas Jefferson Magazine'. This metaphor asserts that happiness of an individual could not be represented, it is innate, something amorphous, and could not be artificially recreated. In this story though, I am importing this idea to craft a few more meanings.

1) This is a time-travel fic, meaning, characters are transported back into the past, and so, memories are _written white_, as in _erased_, or _purified_, since the past is changing. This is in a metaphorical sense, so the characters do not experience amnesia of any kind. Feel free in interpreting your own version of memories being written white.

2) Please do not haunt me with scientific analysis and rebuttal of time-travelling. Focus on the story, I am not science-inclined. If my version of time-travelling do not appease you, feel free to click the little red cross on the top right hand corner of your browser.

3) While this story may be written in 3rd person's point of view, it is a 3rd person limited, focalised mostly through Tifa and occasionally Vincent's eyes. They are also empowered with free-indirect discourse.

4) I am also aware that while there are time-travelling fic about this couple, they are incomplete, and so I am here to complete this story. It may take a while, a few years or months, depending on my other responsibilities, but I promise to complete this.

5) Reviews will be replied through Private Messages, Anon reviews will be replied at the start of each chapter.

6) Beta-readers please knock on my door. I need you dearly.

Disclaimer: I do not own any thing related to the game, all rights reserved by Square Enix. We have a love-hate thing going on. Ugh.

By: Fourteen Lines

* * *

**Chapter One**

The final battle they had envisioned was nothing like reality. At the beginning, they had thought of fighting alongside the maiden of the planet, and celebrations after a grand victory, an almost symbolic and heroic battle. When she was brutally murdered and joined back into the lifestream, they had thought of a gruesome fight with Sephiroth till their deaths. At the very least, Reeve would have to create a new Cait, with it being the weakest link.

It was a bitter fight, more than one against Sephiroth and his countless clones, spawns, Jenova manifestations. It was a fight against their darkest nightmares. A fight against her father's murderer, a fight for revenge, a fight for a better life they knew they would never have. But they survived.

"This is all we could do." It was that simple: Their mission was over. Cloud had mouthed the closure they needed badly. "We'll leave our worries here."

_Worries, memories, pain, hatred, or revenge?_ She thought of his words, savoured them in her mouth that left a bitter aftertaste. _Will they be able to bury all of that here?_

"Let's go home proud." Cloud flashed a forced smile in her direction and she knew he was trying to convince not the others, but himself. And she had to do her own convincing. The fall of Sector Seven's support pillar, the deaths of hundreds from the explosions in the reactor, everything were means to an end.

The bitter aftertaste pushed bile from the pit of her stomach, begging for release. But she nodded nevertheless. If it was not for herself, it was for the image of a hero, for the world to have hope in the future. For her to atone.

She feigned a smile back at Cloud and they watched in silence as the rest of the group walked towards the entrance of the crater. That few weeks had seemed like years and she sighed for the humanity they have now lost. The act was personal, but it must have caught Vincent's attention, for when she looked up, she met with his piercing gaze.

He tossed a lock of his jet ebony hair back, his gaze unfaltering. His face was half-hidden under his red cloak, but she could tell his gaze was sharp, bordering on accusatory. It was almost as if he _knew_ what she was thinking.

"Let's go." Tifa tore her gaze from Vincent and accepted Cloud's outstretched hand. "It's all over now." She felt him squeeze her hand, and a surge of artificial comfort engulfed her for a moment, before it too, dissipated in the humid air of the dark cavern.

When Cloud reached his free hand to cup her cheek, Tifa watched in horror as his irises dilate and contract before forming Mako green slits. "C..Cloud?"

His eyes widened and his body convulsed, before falling onto the mossy ground, his head bobbing back and forth. "Oh my god, Cloud!" She knelt down beside him and held his arms.

"He is still… here." Cloud reversed her grasp and held her tightly by the wrist, a snarl escaping from his throat. "He's… laughing!" His eyes widened for the last time, and he fell limp onto the ground, lifeless.

"Cloud!" She pulled him into her lap and placed a finger under his nose, checking for any sign of life.

"Tifa! What's wrong?" The six of them were immediately back with her, Barret's booming voice bringing some semblance of comfort in her sinking heart. At least she was not alone.

"He just… fainted all of a sudden!" She did not expect her voice to sound as frantic as it did, losing Cloud was an unbearable thought.

"We have to make haste. The cliffs are crumbling." Vincent's usual monotone had never sounded this annoying, but she knew better than having an argument while the rocks are falling from above, threatening to crush and bury them in this abyss.

"I'll stay with Cloud. Please, the rest of you have to leave, now!" She didn't have a clue where the courage in her voice came from, but she was glad it sounded convincing.

She thought of the things they could return to. Cid to Shera in Rocket Town, waiting to finally hear his confession, Barret to Marlene who awaits his adventure stories during bed-time, Cait, the only pair of eyes into the final battle with Sephiroth and the true intentions of Avalanche, Yuffie to her anxious father in Wutai. But Tifa only has Cloud. The only thread to her memories, everything she ever knew, the only one who shares her pain was lying in her lap, she would give up all possible futures the world could offer to stay by his side. "Now!"

"I shall stay, too." Of course, Vincent had even less to return to.

"We'll join up later." Yuffie scooted closer and held Tifa's hands in hers.

"Promise, kay?" Any reply from her would trigger the dampness in Yuffie's eyes to well, so she nodded.

"We will be waitin' on the Highwind, don't you dare fail us now!" Cid fisted Vincent in the arm, and crooked a smirk in her direction.

They waited in silence for Cloud to stir. It occurred to her that Vincent didn't suggest carrying Cloud and leaving the crater.

"Maybe we should carry Cloud out, he doesn't seem to be waking."

"…He's fighting. We should not move him."

"Fighting?" She thought for a moment. "Cloud said Sephiroth is still alive."

"Yes. In Cloud's consciousness… The last traces of Sephiroth."

It was rather unsettling to watch the rocks fall one by one, always close to them, but missing. Almost as if they were attracted to the bottom of the crater, where the pool of Lifestream was tainted by Sephiroth's evil. As Tifa looked up, she felt relieved for the first time after the fight ended.

"All stories end. I wonder if this is ours?" She whispered, quiet, yet she knew he heard. "The end of what we've longed for."

"What did you long for?"

She snapped her head in his direction before lowering her right hand to softly stroke Cloud's cheek, feeling his soft breaths. "Revenge."

"Then it is the end."

"Is this the end for you as well?" She asked, their gaze met, almost challenging.

"The end has long passed for me. This is just a part of it." He shifted to lower his face deeper into the cloak and Tifa knew the conversation was over.

A sick part of her almost wished this to be the end of her life as well. With Cloud in her arms, her past in the deep abyss below, swallowed by the Lifestream. She longed for Aerith, there was always hope by the Ancient's side. Perhaps if she were to die, Aerith would be the angel to bring her back to the Lifestream.

Around them, rocks were falling, bringing pieces of the trail they were supposed to follow with it. Cloud would be the one to decide if they lived. Tife continued to focus on the falling rocks, and the soft plunging of them into the Mako below.

In her arms, Cloud finally stirred. "Cloud?"

"Tifa…" He frowned, still in a daze.

"We should go." Vincent reminded them. By their side, another piece of the ground was caving.

Cloud struggled to get on his feet. "Sephiroth is gone… for good now." He looked into Tifa's eyes, pleading. "Let's start our lives anew."

She looked at his outstretched hand, and reached for him, promising of a better future. Except this time, the ground beneath her collapsed and their hands never met.


	2. Chapter 2

**Memories Written White**

**Reply to Amy**: Thank you so much for the review! Saying that I got the characters "spot-on" is the best compliment I'll ever hear. For my readers' sake and mine, I'll be sure to complete this fic. I haven't got a real complex storyline to throw everyone off their feet, but I have enough to frame my writing, so, hopefully it'll be done before June next year.

**Author's Notes**: Écarté was a popular card game in the 19th century, but rarely played now. I used the term to describe the circular tide of wind, whatever the scientific term is, I forgot since it wasn't tested anymore after I turned like 10? I find it an apt term because it literally meant "discarded", and I wanted it to be like a subtle pun to Tifa's pathetic fall down the cavern. Daucus Carotas are a type of weed, usually used for complementary purposes in bouquets, looks like what was at that place when I played the game. In the flower language, it meant "Sanctuary", quite fitting of the place, I'd say.

Again, beta-readers, please knock.

I feel a little sad for Zack. He was promoted to First Class on April First. I bet he half-expected Sephiroth and Angeal to just scream "April's Fool" in his face.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except this piece of imagination and my X-rated dreams of Vincent.

By: Fourteen Lines

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Like a fallen angel, only without wings. Her body tossed about like a used puppet by falling rocks and the ruthless tide of wind, driven by the upsurge of heat from the boiling Mako below, and the cool air of the cavern, intertwining in an unforgiving game of Écarté. They watched in pure dread as Tifa fell alongside the rocks under her feet, knocking into a few on her descent. Her eyes were wide-open and locked on Cloud as she fell with a splash into the Lifestream below. It was a scene neither of them could ever forget.

Cloud had wanted to dive in after, but Vincent pulled him back.

"Let go!" Cloud was seething with anger, at him or himself, Vincent did not know. "I can't lose Tifa! Not Tifa!"

"I will bring her back." Vincent tossed Cloud away from the edge and pushed him to the ground by his shoulders. "You can't rescue her."

He knew he hit a painful spot, but now was not the time to euphemise the truth. He watched as Cloud's shoulders slack and a look of despair over took his facial features. "Please… save her."

Vincent nodded and dived in after, hearing a soft murmur escape from Cloud's lips as he transformed into Chaos. "Tifa…"

They were prepared for death, but none were prepared for any other than their own.

It was futile. Vincent could not figure out why he had agreed to rescue Tifa. Perhaps it was the pure, unadulterated bond she shared with Cloud that Vincent envied, a love only possible in young passionate lovers that reminded him of his youth. Or perhaps it was the look in her eyes when she sighed, her resignation to life. He could taste the guilt in the air she breathed, her every step heavy with the lead weight of the blood on her hands. Or perhaps he was tired of living himself. If the Lifestream could swallow Sephiroth, then it could kill Vincent.

And it could have already killed Tifa.

Chaos loomed over the surface of the water, skimming past falling rocks while searching for any traces of life in the raw Mako below. From within the core of the planet, heat emanated, turning the pale blue Mako almost an electric cobalt. Chaos growled as a rock hit the appendage of his wing, and focused more on dodging the blows from falling rocks. Except now, the cavern was close to fully caving in.

Below, bubbles were forming in the pool of Mako; the water level receding slightly, a sign of an impending eruption. Chaos roared and slashed his gauntlet against the falling rocks, slicing each by half, and stretched his wing to soar higher.

He struggled to breathe as more rocks fell, each getting harder to dodge. Chaos sped forward, ignoring the burn of torn flesh that increased by the second. Blood gushed from the open wounds on his wing, and eventually, it gave in under the pressure of the flight against raining rocks and Chaos screamed in pure agony as it the bone within snapped and flipped like paper in the wind, tearing more muscles.

As his body gave in, Chaos spiraled downwards, consciousness subsiding and Vincent took over once again, painfully aware of the gashes across his chest, abdomen, thighs, arms and back. But everything turned white when the Lifestream erupted from the core of the cavern and all Vincent could feel was pallid numbness. He had expected to be burnt, or to drown before drifting into oblivion, but heaven reached him before death did. It must have been Holy and Aerith's work from the Lifestream.

For a moment, Vincent just drifted in the void. There were no worries, no painful past, no madman trying to destroy the planet. If this was paradise, Vincent approved of the peace it radiated. _This may be the end she spoke of_, he silently thought, _it all returns to null_.

"Vincent?"

Yes, this was the end. And if this is the end, he hoped the voice could be hers. "Lucrecia?"

He thought of the day they first met. It was not even remotely romantic, in a science lab, with buzzing noises from computers. When did he first love her? Was it the day under the palm tree, when the wind carried her scent alongside the freshness of morning dew, or perhaps it was the very day he laid eyes on her, her thick hair framing a love-shaped face, alluring brown eyes and a worried smile. When did it start, he had no idea, when will it end, he too had not a single clue.

"Lucre-who?" The voice was too young to be Lucrecia. It did not hold the raspy edge her voice did, and it was slightly sharper, without the delicate tone he always loved from her voice, though at times it worried him that she always sounded on the verge of crying.

He opened his eyes to face a set of plum coloured eyes, tinted with hints of brown. "Tifa?"

"Yeah. You fell, too?" Vincent cocked his head as a reply. Ambiguity, always the road out of awkward situations. "I wonder where we are?"

He looked about, the smell of fresh morning dew, soft wind fluttering the sea of Daucus Carota, beside the very palm tree he once sat under with Lucrecia. "T-this place…"

"Perhaps we've been washed up by the Lifestream." Tifa took a step towards the tree. "Or it may be a beautiful place the Planet provided for us to live in after death."

"This is Nibelheim."

"Nibelheim?" Tifa licked the roof of her mouth, feeling the words come to life as daggers in her heart. "I've been a tour guide for Nibelheim. I don't remember seeing this place."

"This was Nibelheim… Thirty years ago." Rather than convincing her, Vincent was talking to himself, burning the images into his memories, imagining Lucrecia sitting by his side, placing the sandwiches in his hands.

"Thirty… years ago?" She took two steps forward to Vincent and hung her head upon realization. "Then this is quite like a place where your memories lay? I've been into Cloud's memories with him… perhaps this is something like that?"

He ignored her quiet questioning, and instead chose to tread on the memories buried from so long ago. The metallic clank from his feet coming in contact with the ground sent shivers down his spine. No matter how much he wished to return to the past, he will never be the same. At least, if this was one of his dreams, he could see her again. "I have a place I must go."

Tifa nodded, and when she realized he was not facing in her direction, added, "This may just be a figment of our imagination, or your deepest yearnings. But I wish you luck in whatever matter you are going to settle."

Her words made him feel a slight tinge of guilt at his blatancy to be left alone. "I promised Cloud I will bring you back."

"Cloud… I wonder if he's okay."

"He should be. I saw him, with much reluctance, leave the crater."

"Alright. I'll stay here then. Just come back here after you're done."

The red cloak shimmered as the morning light shone pass the torn holes and Vincent walked pass Tifa, not turning to look at her. Tifa watched as he sauntered towards the flowers in the field and cocked his head slightly in her direction. "Thank you."

Tifa nodded and sat on the slightly moist ground, watching him as his form receded. The shade under the palm tree provided some sort of cool comfort as she lay amidst the revitalizing scent of nature. If this was thirty years ago and not merely Vincent's memories, she wondered if her parents were still in the village, safe and sound. Were they married yet? Perhaps not. Did they exist? Maybe. But she promised to stay, and so, stay, she shall.

She closed her eyes and hugged herself, leaning against the thick bark of the tree, allowing the soft wind to blow away her deep feelings of guilt left from the battle.

"Miss, this is private property. You do not seem like an authorized personnel."

Tifa jerked up at the voice and on instinct, tightened her fists. She came face to face with a man a head taller, with red riveting eyes. "I am just waiting for a friend."

At her defensive stance, the man pulled out a triple barrel gun and aimed it between her eyes. "And where might the friend be?"

Tifa knew better than to face him alone. The way he easily dealt with the kind of guns Vincent equipped rang warning bells in her head. She scanned him from tip to toe, taking in his dark navy uniform and the alarms rang louder. "Leave me alone, Turk."

The biting tone in her voice did not go unnoticed and he raised an eyebrow. "You seem of threat. It is not in my ability to decide if I should let you off."

"I'm just waiting for a friend." Tifa locked her gaze with him, lifting her fist and separating her legs. "I will not be of any threat if you let me be."

"As I asked, who may that friend be?" Tifa narrowed her eyes at the man, and pulled her lips tight into a snarl. She wondered if she could reveal Vincent's name in his memory, but decided to leave that until the very end.

"Leave me alone, right-partition." Without better idea, she resorted to calling him by his hairstyle. "I said, I am waiting for a friend!"

"Does that friend of yours work here, left-partition?" he snickered, and that made Tifa sick to the stomach.

"Yes, he does." She lied, rolling her eyes, not fond of the act.

"And who might that be?" He closed up on her and she ducked her head, expecting a pre-emptive strike, only to earn another snicker from the black haired man.

Tifa scowled and lowered her arms. "Fine. What do you want?"

"I will have to ask you to leave this place at once. Or report to the security with me."

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "What if my friend can't find me?"

"I will leave a message for you."

Now, she was irritated. "Please, just let me off" she sighed.

"I need to know if you are telling the truth." He lowered his gun. "Who is that friend of yours?"

"Vincent Valentine." She murmured behind clasped teeth and watched as the man's eyes widen and brows knit.

It took him some time to reply, and when he did, Tifa thought her heart stopped. "Why are you looking for me?"

She thought she heard the sound of her jaw hitting the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

**Memories Written White**

**Reply to Ami**: I try my best to update whenever I have the time. And yes, I'll make sure I finish this fic!

**Reply to Kyuutsu**: The next update is here! I hope you enjoyed this as well?

**Author's Notes: **I am extremely touched by your reviews. I'll continue to work hard and maintain the current quality. Here's the third chapter. I can't possibly leave you without something to read for the weekend. There will probably be another update within 24 hours, since I have to cut this chapter to create a better effect on the reading experience. (Update: I've found a beta-reader, you guys wouldn't believe this, it's Babykay47, omg! The author of "Tifa's Betrayal" and "The Materia of Time", one of my all-time favourites! So I will be sending the future chapters to her first before I upload. Thanks, BabyKay!)

Dear Beta-Reader, where could you be?

Disclaimer: Disclaimers are redundant, but it's like a comic relief for me, so I'll keep it here. Anyway, Square Enix owns everything, all the FF characters, and all my money.

By: Fourteen Lines

**Chapter Three**

Reverse psychology does not work on Vincent Valentine. It was a lesson she learnt.

Beneath the turmoil of anxiety and fear, Tifa had mustered enough courage to stare at him head on, her eyes challenging him to further his questioning. Unfortunately, he did not falter at the least, and her insides cringed when the grace period ended without a single excuse in her head.

"I asked – Why are you looking for me?" Tifa parted her lips to answer, but chose to instead avert her eyes. She thought of the possible outcomes of this, either getting locked up in a freezing cell without the polish of sunlight, or sent to Hojo for interrogation. Interrogation bound to go wrong.

Seeing that she was not going to provide a satisfactory reply, he continued, "Answer me." Again, he held the gun pointed between her eyes.

The young Vincent was getting too close, and Tifa knew she had to act. She pursed her lips and fingered the leather gloves on her hands, she could attempt to redeem herself. "I –"

A series of gunshots alongside an immediate ring of his pager distracted him from their current position. She watched as he retrieved the machine with his free hand, all the while keeping his red eyes locked on hers. When he finally turned to look down at his pager, Tifa took the opportunity to land a high kick on his wrist, effectively knocking the gun away from them. With lithe yet powerfully formed muscles trained for a successful terrorist, she slipped away from within his reach, following the trail Vincent had previously taken.

This Vincent smoothed his hands over his pants and slipped the pager back into his pockets before holstering the gun back by his waist. Hojo had been shot, and he was to return back to the office at once to protect Lucrecia. In every sense, the young woman must have had some association with the sniper. He made a mental note to follow up on the case.

Pass the garden, Tifa silently mourned for the Daucus Carotas she had stepped on. She had heard that very gunshot countless times before. No other gun could produce such an explosive hit. It must have been the Death Penalty. Who could Vincent have shot? The question rung in her head, until the realization struck. _Hojo!_ Wait a minute, she thought, is this not too realistic for a figment of Vincent's memory? She stopped in her tracks and looked around her, realizing that she had somehow managed to get into the Shinra mansion. In a distance, she could hear the footsteps of people shuffling about from the accident that had just happened. The mansion looked new, with some traces of dirt on the walls, the milky white flooring shone from the waxing meticulously polished on by maids.

She compared it with the experience in Cloud's memories. It was like a scene from a black- and white film. The scenario was made entirely by Cloud's memory, thus the walls and houses had no colour, except certain places he had specifically remembered the form of. Like her house… it was fully coloured, remembered to the smallest detail in his heart. She smiled softly to herself, realizing how much Cloud must have loved her from all those years back.

Vincent must have remembered the place to its excruciatingly minute detail, the sound of the birds, the number of petals on each flower, the direction of the wind… it was simply impossible.

"Tifa." She felt a pair of warm arms around her, a sea of red drowned over her sight and the distinct spice of male scent washed over. It was not unpleasant, no, nowhere near that spectrum. Merely… male and masculine, perfectly Vincent.

When the sea of red dissipated, and her vision cleared, Tifa found herself in a narrow alley in Nibelheim village. That did not take more than a minute. She turned to face Vincent, his long hair draped across part of his face, covering the features his cloak could not. "Vincent… what was that? Did we just teleport?" He shrugged and beckoned her to follow as he walked towards the village, his red cloak billowing in the wind. He never was one to clarify others' doubts about him. Tifa sighed and followed. It will take some time to get used to being with Vincent after weeks of travelling with the entire group, with him in the margins.

"We need to decide where to go from now."

Tifa rolled her eyes and laid her weight on one foot, kicking forth the other while following him. "Right after you killed Hojo?"

"I did not kill him."

This caught Tifa's attention, who else could he have shot besides Hojo? Her eyes widened as she speculated in her head. "Oh my… Was it… Lucre..cia?"

Vincent turned over and glared at her, momentarily knocking the air from her lungs. "I would never harm Lucrecia."

For a moment, Tifa was embarrassed to have thought Vincent as a jealous and psychopathic boyfriend. "I'm sorry. I heard the sound of Death Penalty firing, and it never failed you… so I thought-"

"I shot Hojo, yes. But I did not kill him." He had overreacted at her previous assumption. It was not a pleasant thing to do, and he had to cut her off to brush past the subject.

"Why didn't you?" She kept her voice barely above a whisper, it was a sensitive issue, no doubt, of Hojo, Lucrecia and him. But Tifa was never one to back down from her curiosities.

He took a while to contemplate, whether at her scathingly clear question, or a possible answer, she could not be too sure. Vincent was a complex character. "Lucrecia… was there." She left him some time to allow the words to dissolve from his mouth, for him to stop brooding over the thought of his lover.

"Have you done what you wanted to?" Vincent had left to do something personal. Perhaps it was to meet Lucrecia, or kill Hojo, whatever it was, she hoped it was done. But knowing that Hojo was still breathing, she could guess Vincent's unsettling emotions.

"Quite… I'd say." It was his turn to lower his voice, now deeper than his usual baritone. It sent a wave of chill down Tifa's spine. "Some things could never be resolved."

"Yes. Like sins." She had pushed beyond Vincent's boundaries with the last comment, she knew. Who was she to talk about sins? They all had different interpretations of the word. She was a murderer with blood on her hands, yet others convinced her it was mere justice tears, not the crimson fluid she saw dripping from her hands every night in her dreams. Vincent must be the same. Ultimately, the cruelest judge to one's actions, is oneself. And so, she decided to approach a safer topic. "How do you suppose we can go back?"

"Since it was the Lifestream that had washed us here." _To this godforsaken past of mine_, he stopped himself from adding. "I suppose, Mideel."

"Would you like to spend more time here before we leave?"

_Perceptive._ Somehow, he had a feeling Tifa understood him better than most. It must have been the guilt that festers inside her heart. "No." his tone did little to convince himself, much less her. "It's fine. We can leave now."


	4. Chapter 4

**Memories Written White**

**Reply to Ami:** I didn't expect the "jealous and psychopathic" part to stand out so distinctly… It was just a side comment from Tifa's convoluted thoughts. Haha, I'm glad it entertained you though. I expect very little of Tifa's memories to show… since this is thirty years ago, when Tifa wasn't even swimming yet… As I told "FreezingCold", I want a beta-reader to keep the quality of this fic, since I know at times (when I have writer's block), my sentences may be problematic, and it is good to have another perspective on the story/character development. It'll also be a motivation for me to keep writing, since now I have someone to cooperate with. I am really grateful that you take time to review every one of my chapters, and with such nice compliments too! Thank you!

**Author's Notes:** As I've updated in my previous chapter, from this chapter onwards, BabyKay47 will be beta-reading my fic. Though this may cause the chapters to take a little longer to reach you, I couldn't fully express how happy I am. I know I may sound passive and depressed in my writings, but I literally jumped and spun three whole rounds when BabyKay PM-ed me. Also, I have to warn you that I will be taking the "A" Levels in 2 weeks, so… I may not update as frequently as I am now. I will definitely try to update at least once a week, but not three times a week like now. Please, if you have yet to read BabyKay's works, I sincerely recommend you to, I loved them! Always nice to meet fellow VinTis. (Update after BabyKay47 had beta-read: OMG She's so professional I wanna cry! I'm so touched. LOL okay.)

Listening to 21 Guns by Green Day while typing. Simple things in life that I enjoy… Music.

Disclaimer: If I owned anything at all, you wouldn't hear of Tifa or Vincent. They'll be in my basement… ;)

By: Fourteen Lines

**Chapter Four**

Reality could never be more cruel. Vincent had hoped the worst had come and passed him by. A hibernation of thirty years must have been atonement of some sort, yet here he was, torn to pieces again by cruel fate. For the first time, Vincent realised he had seen the truth. For thirty years, he had lived in his memory of the past, had longed to go back, to where Lucrecia was, to when he was human, and all these had been a dismissible joke. A cruel joke. Yet now, he had to face the mocking truth.

_Vincent stood by the window of the laboratory where he used to serve Lucrecia, and protect her from any possible harm. He thought he knew everything about her. She drank a cup of milk tea every morning, more milk than tea, boiling hot with three tablespoons of sugar – sweeter than he could ever tolerate. She ran her fingers through her hair whenever she felt stressed – when experiments did not yield the results she expected, when Hojo rushed her into new projects… when he had confessed._

_He squirmed at the thought, and turned away from the window, accidentally scraping his cheek against the edge of a glass shard. The pain was a flimsy but _ _valid excuse to divert attention from his thoughts and Vincent found himself staring at his hazy reflection on the tinted glass. The wound drew blood, but was far from deep. Within seconds, the parted flesh knitted together and a pale pink tint covered the gash, slowly fading away, to how it had been before – flawless, unscratched, belying any form of hurt. He thought about how much it resembled him, masking an undamaged exterior while holding onto past pains that would never be heard or seen by anyone other than himself._

_Vincent chuckled bitterly beneath his cloak, it echoed his pathetic self-torture. What was he thinking? There was no way back. Even if he had really been empowered enough to change the past, it would never change him. This was just sprinkling salt on his sore wounds; rubbing where it hurt most._

_He stood, unwavering, observing the silhouette entering the room. Despite his control, his heart ached for her. Lucrecia – beautiful Lucrecia. A heart that had stopped beating for thirty years lurched, and pounded, causing his ears to ring. She loosened her hair and combed through the tresses with her fingers before tying it into a tight pony tail again, high enough for it to show above her head. He had asked, once, about this little habit. She said it was to air her neck, for as a scientist, it often ached. He had wanted to loosen those tight muscles for her back then, to see her heave a sigh of relief, and a smile to run across those cherry lips._

_Only, now, he was different. Lucrecia was different. In his memory, Lucrecia was vulnerable, beautiful, and perfect. He did not remember seeing lines around her lips when she sighed, or bags beneath her eyes. Her voice was a pitch lower, her eyes a shade duller, her lipstick too red for her complexion, her cheeks looked a little sunken, her jaw line a little square, bordering on compromising her feminine looks. She was still beautiful, nevertheless, but it was different from the goddess he had painted in his memories._

At that moment, Vincent regretted the impulse of looking for her. All that he had lived by for the past thirty years, all that he held in his heart was a pale shadow of reality. Lucrecia was never perfect. The goddess in his mind shattered into a million pieces, its shards tearing his heart apart, leaving him to bleed into nothingness inside. Everything he thought he knew, was imagined. Lucrecia looked different from his Lucrecia. His Lucrecia was never there.

Where then, could all his love go? The only pivot in his life was lost, and Vincent found himself rootless.

Hojo had chosen that moment to walk in. The creak of the wooden door as the hinges moaned saved Vincent from crumbling right there and then. If there was one thing he could do, it would be to save everyone from the mad scientist, the one reason for evil to seep into the planet. _Kill Hojo!_ He could hear his every cell scream, his demons roaring in bloodlust, his empty heart filling with pure, raw hatred. _Kill Hojo!_

He pulled his gun from the holster at his waist, and aimed at the back of Hojo's head. He had never felt such intense, concentrated hatred, vicious in his blood, threatening to burst from his skin. With the gun levelled and ready to pull the trigger, Lucrecia had turned around to pick up a flask by the table beside her, intending to pass to Hojo. They locked eyes, and Vincent felt his heart caving in, breaking under the weight of his remaining love for the woman.

Whether it was love or obsession, he did not know. He did not want to know.

Time seemed to slow down, and he was but a silent observer to Lucrecia's dramatic change of expression. The stoic expressions were torn away, replaced by horror, anxiety and fear, all terrible emotions. And they were all accumulatively directed at him as she turned to warn Hojo. Somewhere along the line, he thought he had heard her scream, her mouth forming those words he loathed so much. "Doctor!"

He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. Along with the bullet that had exploded from the Death Penalty, Vincent's heart had exploded and dissoluted into the atmosphere, leaving an empty core. Once a proud turk, he knew he missed. A part of him mourned for the first failed assassination, but a bigger part of him was relieved. Sickly relieved that Hojo did not die now. Now, when Lucrecia would have mourned for his death, would have respected him, would have celebrated him as a genius.

As her fiancé.

Vincent slipped away in silence, leaving behind a past that had lived with him beyond its time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Memories Written White**

**Author's Notes:** Okay, that previous chapter is a little… angsty. But it's to show Vincent's breakdown. Forgive me. I don't know how old Lucrecia is, and since I'm not a big fan, I'm assuming she's 30. This chapter is a short insert on the past-Vincent's encounters.

-Still listening to 21 Guns-

(Update: I've changed the previous online database to the mansion's library, since this is 30 years back. I won't be updating this story anytime soon, so I'll give you two chapters. Leave a review, alright?)

Disclaimer: Alright, I am still doing this. Hmmm… If I owned FF characters… I'll make lotsa porn for you guys, alright? ;) Fourteen Lines for president of Square Enix!

By: Fourteen Lines, Beta-Reader: BabyKay47

**Chapter Five**

Though Hojo was free from life threatening injuries, the entire situation was nonetheless out of control. Vincent Valentine stood by the operation theatre, and watched silently as Lucrecia broke down. At twenty-seven, he was a Turk in his prime, ready to further his career. Except, there had been some distractions lately: he had fallen in love. Three years his senior, Lucrecia Crescent was the centre of his universe. His job, his heart, his very existence revolved around protecting her. He had little experience in the sector; it took years to pass Turk training, and more to advance as a full-fledged Turk.

Her gaze was averted from him, her hands shielding him from view. There was a profound change in their relationship since the day he found his father's file on her computer screen. Sometimes he wondered what would have been the result if he had taken a longer lunch. He could have pursued her without hesitation, perhaps they could have been lovers, perhaps he would have accepted that she never told him about his father, perhaps she would have taken more time to get over her self-imposed guilt, and face him again. The thoughts of these possibilities only served to deepen the cut on his heart.

The guilt of having been the reason for the unfortunate explosion during her experiment with Chaos haunted her daily. He knows. He wanted to let her have some space, but it backfired.

The odds were against him now, not only had Lucrecia accepted Hojo's proposal, the incident involving Hojo had effectively won her heart over. Vincent watched as tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and fingers cupped her rosy cheeks. Words weighed a ton on his tongue. He wanted to comfort her, to pull her into his arms, but he could not. Lucrecia knew his feelings for her. If he attempted to console her, he knew she would collapse from the guilt. He was the last person she wanted by her side to see her like this.

It hurt. It hurt like a million shards kneading against his chest and he had trouble breathing. Her sobs were quiet, but they echoed in the room and paralysed him. He did the only thing that could alleviate thepain for both of them. He walked away from her.

Vincent would never know if that was the right choice to make.

As soon as he left the room, his strong front withered, and he leaned against the wall, his knees and his tears giving way. In the silence, he listened attentively to her every intake of breath, every little prayer that escaped her lips. Not for him, never for him… At least, for that moment, Vincent could imagine that they were together in their pain. And that was enough comfort for him to put himself back together.

It took him more determination than usual to make his way back to his office. There were things he had to settle – the investigation of Hojo's failed assassination, the mysterious intruder. All are mere potential distractions from his thoughts of Lucrecia and Hojo. Breathing deeply, he mentally braced himself for the next few days. To keep his mind off Lucrecia, he had to work, work and keep working.

He picked up the phone by his desk and dialed for a friend in the headquarters. As usual, he picked up on the third ring.

"Vincent?" From his tone, Vincent could guess he was roughly in a similar situation; overworked, nevertheless, motivated and driven.

"Veld."

"Well, you don't usually call. Is something wrong over at Nibelheim?"

"Yes." He sighed, deciding to summarise the incident. "Professor Hojo was shot by a sniper. I suspect him to have a female companion. I need more sources."

There was a short pause on Veld's side, and Vincent could hear soft noises of fingers hitting against an old keyboard, making several mistakes every now and then. Veld was never quite fond of technology, but he had improved greatly thus far. "I could send you another Turk… But we've got some problems on our hands as well, Professor Gast has been overworking many of us."

"No, I'm fine doing this alone." Vincent was never one to work alongside others, though Turks always had a partner they were closest to. Well, Veld was quite the partner for an introverted man like Vincent. "I just need access to the mansion's database. I've met the sniper's companion."

"Alright, I'll validate your access in the security system in a few minutes."

"Thank you."

That few minutes may have been the longest time in his life. His mind wandered to places he wanted to avoid, to Lucrecia and Hojo. He contemplated whether or not to check up on her, but decided against it. He could not bring himself to hurt her more by being there to remind her of her guilt and self-loathing now. Slowly, he got on his feet and retrieved his card key from the drawer, making his way down to the mansion's basement.

He spent no time in getting to work. Shinra had data for every little village on the map, categorized in the most detailed manner possible. He closed his eyes and pushed past the images of Lucrecia, searching for the stranger's face. Under race, he searched for brunettes, aged between 20-22, from the way she spoke and her features, he'd guess she was from the western continent, around Nibelheim, close enough to Wutai to have some Wutaian features, yet different.

The search through the multitudes of files was fruitless. Without her name or DNA specimen, there was no clear way to sift through millions of people. Past the two-hundredth file, he decided to stop. Rather than passively flipping through the database in a library with stale air, Vincent decided to head out and check on the Turk trainees and SOLDIER personnels that were sent to investigate.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: **I'm so afraid that I may be over-working BabyKay47. I think I may have some problem. The first name I think of when I wake up is "Tifa", when I eat, I think of Tifa, when I sleep, I dream of Tifa, everywhere I am, I think of Tifa. If you want the correct version of the story in this chapter, it is an allegory by philosophers Plato and Socrates. You can read about it on Wikipedia, "Allegory of the cave". I am quite happy at how this chapter has turned out to be. I hope you are too!

(Update: Tell me if this chapter is believable. It's my favourite chapter thus far. I really enjoyed writing this. And I really have to thank BabyKay47 for being so meticulous, she corrected me in many ways, and I really am thankful for! Btw, my A levels is in 6 days. So I believe this will be the last update for this month, unless I need to relief some stress. Leave a comment to make me feel better about myself and the stress, thanks!)

Disclaimer: If I owned Vincent and Tifa… AWWW YEAH! ;) *insert inappropriate imaginations*

By: Fourteen Lines, Beta-Reader: BabyKay47

**Chapter Six**

Vincent was on the verge of breaking.

Thus far, they had travelled beyond the Nibelheim gates and were moving towards Rocket Town for transport to Mideel. Vincent had yet to speak a single word ever since he had suggested Mideel as their destination. Vincent had a confrontation with his past, and at the way he was acting, Tifa knew it was far from pleasant.

"Let's set up a camp here and rest for the night." She could not possibly watch Vincent crumble any further. They had to talk.

She recalled that small episode in Mideel, nursing Cloud, praying that he would get well, forgetting about the state of the planet. The days when doctor had explained Cloud's malady to her. _'Not the heart, but the mind. The mind could not take the cruelty of reality.' _She did not understand his words back then, and so he told her a story…

"Rocket Town is nearing."

"I insist. Unless you wish to leave a young girl by herself in the wild, I suggest you rest, too." Vincent frowned under his cloack. They had all seen what Tifa was capable of. In fact, he doubted Cloud could winagainst her with his bare fists, and if Cloud could not, Vincent highly doubted any boars or zoloms could. They had been trained by harsh weather and Jenova fiends over the months, their bodies had long surpassed that of humans, or beasts.

Yet he could not possibly leave a lady by herself in the wilderness; it would be rather unbecoming of a man, or a human in general. Though he doubted he was close to one. Reluctantly, he threw a few twigs from the ground and sat down.

Tifa squatted beside him and tugged her miniskirt between her thighs for modesty purposes before checking her equipped materia. She thanked Shiva for having Fire3 on her and ignited a small flame in her hands before setting it on a few loose twigs and pushing them together to form a small campfire.

"You know, this situation reminds me of a story Cloud's doctor in Mideel told me about." Tifa murmured under her breath and stretched her legs out, carefully setting herself on the ground before pushing them up against her chin. "Care to listen?"

She did not bother to look over at Vincent, knowing that he would not give her any form of reply. She took the silence as a yes.

"Once upon a time, there were big bad bandits in the mountains of Nibelheim." She smiled a little inside at the dramatic effect her voice had created, and the inside joke that there was in fact, only one mountain in Nibelheim. Well, it was all for effect of the story. "They had a sick habit of capturing young boys after they robbed. The thing is, they were so cruel, they didn't kill the boys. They kept them locked in a cave, fed them every day and chained them with their backs facing the entrance.

So every morning, when the sun rose, they would watch as their shadows came to life, moving, like creatures ready to pounce on them. But at times, the shadows looked like humans, interacting with each other. Since they were very young, none of them realised those were their silhouettes, and started imagining the world outside. They thought of their memories, their mothers feeding them from her spoon, their fathers teaching them to spar. And year after year, their longing for the world outside increased. They longed for the sun, longed for the fresh wind that would brush pass their skin as they walked."

Tifa turned to see Vincent shrugging further into his cloak. She wondered if he recognised the story.

"Then one day, they were finally rescued by a vigilante group from the Nibelheim village. The vigilantes knew their wish without asking, and took them back into the village. The captive kids were adults by then, and they squinted their eyes at the sun. Their skin was pale as Wutaian rice cakes, their nails long and uncut, chiselled and dirty. Their parents were now old and weak, their friends were now adults like them, had their own families, and spoke with a better vocabulary that they could not understand. What do you think happened after they got back into the village?"

Vincent had a terrible feeling in his stomach. Tifa had meant to say something from this story; something he did not want to hear.

"They begged the vigilante group to lock them back into the cave." Vincent's head darted out from beneath his cloak, and his eyes were wide. "They begged and begged. Until the point where their parents begged too. 'The sun is too bright,' they said. 'The wind is too cold,' they cried. 'People are scary,' they screamed. And so, the vigilante group locked them back into the cave. As they did so, the captivesrealised the shadows were themselves, nothing else, just shadows, there was no one interacting, there was nothing at all.

The vigilantes brought food for the captives every day, but they didn't eat. They didn't react. They didn't move. Until one day, they all died from starvation."

Tifa realised that Vincent had buried himself into his cloak again. "What do you want to say?" His voice was clear yet quiet enough to betray his anxiety.

"Is this not what you are facing?" She turned to face him. A soft gust of wind extinguished the small flame. "When you woke from the deep slumber, and saw the outside world, it was scary, it had changed so much. But it allowed you to dwell in your old memories, your imagined reality, where you were atoning for your past, where Lucrecia, Hojo, everything was your fault, you had something to do in the world, you had a place. You could continue to hold on to the love you had for Lucrecia. But now, fate has brought you back to confront the past. For thirty years, you manipulated your memories, you clung on toLucrecia and your love for her as your only thread of sanity. Only, you realized they were all false.

Like how the shadows were the only in the boys' imagination, you imagined that there was a connection between you and Lucrecia, that you could live for her, atone for her. But like the shadows, were notinteracting with people. Your atonement was not for her, there was never a connection, you just wanted something to hold on to, and now you realised they were all false, you wish to return to the present, and die! Starve like the boys in the story...you want to starve your emotions...your heart to their death! All you're doing is running away from reality!"

At this point in time, Tifa knew she was no longer talking to Vincent. She was talking to herself.

Vincent was similar to Cloud. Too similar. It made something within her heart stir; and the emotions were unsettling. Vincent was like her, like Cloud. They were all the same eventually. She never realized, but she was, too, living in a cave of her own. Thinking that all she ever wanted was revenge, that she had something to live for, she had Cloud. All of those were just the shadows she came out with in her cave.

She was as empty as Vincent was. Reality could not be any more cruel than this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Just came back from a school exchange trip to Finland! My god, it was awesome! The people there are so warm and friendly! Cried like a baby when I had to leave my host family!**

**This is something I've written loooong before my A levels. FInally uploaded. Chapter 8 following shortly.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

"We should get going." Vincent had taken Tifa's outburst calmly, too calmly. She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, and had Vincent given any form of reaction to her words, she would have escaped this embarrassment. He stood from where he had been sitting and turned around, his cloak brushing past her shoulders.

"I don't think so," she replied, raising her voice when she saw him walk away. "I'm heading back to Nibelheim."

Now, she caught his attention, and she knew it would not take long before he finally snapped. She had trespassed far beyond his boundaries of comfort, and she was playing with fire. "We leave, now, to Mideel."

"No, Vincent." She could feel her stomach turn. Vincent could be rather intimidating, but as a friend, or at least she saw herself as one, she could never bring herself to let him crumble before her eyes. "You may not wish to confront your past, in fact, you don't have the slightest wish to face this reality, but I have something I need to do for the Vincent that is living in this world."

"You have no authority to do what you may wish to." His voice held a harsh edge that sent chills down her throat, and she had to clear it away. "We leave."

"No." She turned her back to him and walked in the opposite direction. "If you want me to allow everything that will happen to you happen to him, you're wrong. I can't do this to you, or Lucrecia, or even Sephiroth."

"We have no clue of the risks involved." He raised his voice, matching hers as their distance grew. "We leave. I promised Cloud I would bring you back."

"No. I may not know what the risks involved are, Vincent, but I am a fighter and I don't quit when I can do something about the situation." She gritted her teeth in the cold night air. "I am not letting Hojo off."

Despite the situation, Vincent felt his admiration for this woman doubled. She was strong, and she would fight for her friends. Even someone like him. He knew that would be her downfall, but he was certain that many would give their lives for her, like she did for them, had something happened to her. Cloud would be the first. Vincent knew he would be on the list too. "It's too dangerous."

Tifa was being manipulative, she knew. But desperate situations calls for desperate means. Besides, she was a member of Avalanche, and she would not let Shinra off as long as she breathed. Hojo was just a part of all that. "Please, Vincent. Let's do this together, I know we can!" She turned back to face him and walked a few steps towards him to show just how serious she was.

A part of him knew that she was doing this for him. As much as he did not wish to admit it, she was right. Reality was too much for him to bear anymore. This trip back to the past was the tipping point. "What do you wish to do?"

"Whatever Hojo's planning, we stop him." Simple words, simple terms. Too simple for the situation.

"And how do you plan on doing this?"

"With the help of a turk I met today." Tifa walked towards him and flashed him an innocent smile. "First, let's get back to Nibelheim."


	8. Chapter 8

Wow, this was supposed to be uploaded with the previous chapter. Finished writing this like eons ago. SORRY I MISSED IT OUT!

btw. I've been playing FFVIII and guess what?! Quistis X Seifer is so damn hot! OMG I wanna write something about that pair, they're smokin'!

Anyways, I wrote like a short chapter of VinTi, it's like a new story, AU... (Called No Promises) and well... idk whether I should change the characters to seifer and quistis... but probably not... It's about revenge and a new life... not posted yet... don't know if I should... But I'll be focusing more on this story though.

Ok I'll stop rambling.

* * *

Chapter Eight

The Nibelheim inn offered some semblance of normalcy for Tifa who needed it dearly. She had tried to shrug that feeling off, but the moment she got into the room, and lay on the bed, all means of control seeped away.

Tears threw her into a fit. Her body shook and shivered, sobs came in quick successions and she felt like throwing up. All the suppressed emotions from the final battle surged from her heart; without Cloud, she was broken and alone. In the dark, she muffled her cries in the pillow. Images of victims from sector seven, and hundreds more from Avalanche bombings filled her mind, playing like a macabre horror film.

Part of her heart had reached for Vincent, yearning to change in his future, thereby suggesting that they stay. But a larger part was yearning for the lost lives, the blood that was spilt on her hands. She wished to change all that, which was why she had stayed: to atone. Did Aerith and Holy send them here? Tifa hoped that she could think of their situation in that manner; see themselves messengers from a twisted future, sent to put things back on track.

Sometime between getting drenched in painful tears and trying to calm herself down, Tifa realised she had fallen asleep. When she opened her eyes to finally let the offending stream of light into her vision, the morning sun brought about a stark realisation that she had indeed travelled back to the past. She hit her forehead lightly and sat up, stretching her arms above her head and smiled as a satisfactory pop sounded from her tired limbs.

A new day and a new mission.

Tifa took two hangers from the small wooden wardrobe by the bed and opened the windows. She stepped away from possible sight and stripped down, before hanging her clothes on the hooks by the wall to air. Her female sensibilities disapproved of wearing the same clothing. She would have to buy new clothes later in the day.

The shower was refreshing; though the soap did not smell as nice as she had wanted, it was acceptable. She donned on a bathrobe provided by the inn and lay back onto the bed, her wet hair hanging off the end of the bed, swaying in the cold morning air. She wondered what Vincent was doing. Her anti-Shinra plans were underdeveloped at best. She thought about discussing it with Vincent, but decided against it. He needed time now, alone.

When her hair dried, Tifa dressed and sniffed herself to make sure she looked, and _smelled_ presentable. With a nod to herself in the mirror, she stepped out of her room and knocked on Vincent's room, directly opposite from hers. He opened at the second knock and her knuckles were awkwardly suspended in the air.

"Morning." She slid her arms into the pockets of her skirt, and managed an affable quirk of her lips.

"…Morning."

"I'll be heading out for a while. Do you need anything?"

"…No." As usual, there was no expression shown on his face, and Tifa decided to let him be. Things were uncomfortable between them, Vincent seemed to be more wary of her eyes. She may have pried too much, analysed too much and said too much during their last conversation. With a soft shrug of her shoulders, she lifted her left hand to her cheek and wagged her fingers twice to signal her leave.

When she turned to walk down the corridor, the wooden flooring below creaked at her weight.

"…Tifa." His words gave her pause. She cocked her head at him, not fully turning around. "Thank you."

He watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted. She spun around to face him, a soft peach tint on her cheeks and she giggled softly. "No problem." She must have known that it was more than a thank you for her offer to help in getting him any necessities, as a sigh of relief escaped between her lips.

"No problem." The first signs of emotions crept back into his heart since the incident at the mansion, and he felt a little more comfortable around Tifa.

This was the lightest her body had been since the battles with Sephiroth, and Tifa found herself wearing a genuine smile. Her trip down to the village had not been quite pleasant, though. She could feel eyes of villagers scrutinising her from tip to toe. Eyes that betrayed their critical and judgemental thoughts. She found the lightness fade away from her body, replaced by heavy irritation.

Her feet led her towards a familiar building. She doubted that her parents had found each other yet, but her feet carried her anyway. Within minutes, she stood by the front door, with her right hand reaching for the doorbell. Seconds stretched into minutes, and into hours in her head. Her heart was aching from longing for her parents. When a tear fell from her eye, she decided against these instincts and walked away.

"Are you related to the Lockharts?" Tifa had literally jumped from the interruptive words that had pulled her from dwelling in her thoughts. Before she could turn, she felt her arms being pulled and locked above her head, and another hand pushed her against the door. At that moment, rather than worrying about her circumstances, she feared the door would open.

At least, from her attacker she now knew that her paternal family lived here.

"Are the Lockharts involved in the assassination of professor Hojo then?"

She struggled to test her opponent's strength. It was not quite as formidable as she would have feared, and she locked her legs around her opponent's, and bended them, forcing him to trip. Once his grip loosened, Tifa reversed the situation and seized him by the arms, pulling them by her side and using them to pivot a kick to his stomach, effectively knocking out air, and some drops of blood.

Except she had to stop. He had a gun against her temple point blank.

"Game's over."


	9. Chapter 9

Tifa thought what follows after the defeat of Sephiroth would be celebration, happiness, if not, peace and silence. Yet here she was, reliving incarceration.

In normal progression, she would be known as a heroine, not a criminal. Yet, she found that she was somehow guilty as charged on the piece of paper spread before her: terrorism.

But that was in another place, another time.

She's innocent here. For now.

"As I've explained, if you choose to cooperate with us, I can appeal for a shorter jail term."

"I'm fully cooperative here." Tifa stared at him with wide doe eyes.

"Cooperation means useful information." Turk Vincent deadpanned.

" I really don't know anything!" She sighed, exasperated.

"Not even your own name?"

"I just don't want to tell you. Who knows what ShinRa would do to taint my name."

"No worries. Even without a name, jail sentence will taint your reputation."

Tifa frowned. Well, that is truly how things work. "Tifa."

"Tifa...?"

"No last name..." She lowered her eyelids and stared at the reflection of light on the table. The room is void of light, except for the dim torch hanging from a rope, swinging like a pendulum as they spoke. Perfect to instigate some sympathy.

"Alright then, miss Tifa. Who was the man who attempted to assassinate Professor Hojo?" Turk Vincent knocked the tip of his pen against the hard covered file rhythmically, his eyes downcast.

"I have no idea." She shook her head.

"Then explain your trespassing into ShinRa property."

Tifa bit her lip and looked at him, her mind reeling with all the possible excuses. A dangerous idea popped into her mind. She looked at the recording device in his hand and murmured. "Turn it off and I'll speak."

Turk Vincent looked up from his file and narrowed his eyes, but does ss she said.

"I was looking for you."

"Me?"His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Yes. I went to warn you."

"Of what?"

Tifa leaned forward, and in a soft voice, spoke. "Hojo. You have to stop him from his human experiments before it's too late! And lucrecia... save her."

His head jolted up, and for a brief eternity, their eyes locked. He recognized the look in her eyes. Desperation, and something that tells him she was dead serious.

"He is planning something, and you know it." She paused, thinking of the one thing that will stop the future madness. She weighed the odds in her mind. If this place truly is the past... Does she dare to change the future so dramatically?

If all these did not happen... Papa would be alive... Cloud would not lose his memories... Aerih would still be with them, and Vincent...

She studied the features of the Vincent before her. Blood red eyes, tall, sharp nose, thin upper lip and a complimentary full lower lip. Refined brows and cheekbones... He really does look like the other Vincent.

Just more... Alive.

In that moment, she decided. There are many things she cannot control. Yes, she's afraid that something bad would happen, something worse.

But if she do not do something for this man before her... he who would continue to breathe but not live. He who lost more than anyone she knows of...

If she knew that she could have done something for him, but she did not...

Tifa Lockhart will rather take this risk than live in regret!

Aerith... Cloud... Anyone else would make the same decision as she!

And so she laughed as the burden lifted from her shoulders.

An unknown realm, new dangers, without Cloud. So what? Tifa Lockhart is a fighter!

The fear, emptiness that were infesting in her heart after the final battle slowly receded. Yes! Here, she will fight for Vincent!

She stood up and held his hand. Long fingers, trimmed nails, and the warmth that she want to help the other Vincent regain. "We have to save the baby that Lucrecia will have!"

Turk Vincent just looked at her like she escaped from an asylum.

"Think about it. And I'm really not involved in the shooting... though I would have shot him myself... Well, just send someone behind me. I won't run. But you have to let me go. I have a friend waiting for me."

He withdrew his hand from her grip and tried to think about her words... They made no bloody sense. But one thing intrigued him. So she does have a companion... who could potentially be the one he is after. Yes, they could use her as bait.

"...Very well."

There are not much manpower left in the mansion. Recently Hojo sent them on a mission to the north . Vincent pondered on the people he could dispatch, it would be a few days before they return. He would have to do the tailing himself for a few days then.

He need to keep himself busy anyway...

And so he took out a small gun, and in his other hand, held her hand. Without warning, he shot a needle-like device into her arm and watch as it buried itself into her flesh.

There was no excruciating pain, just a short pang of numbness where the gun shot her. A tracking device...now, that would be troublesome.

By doing it in front of her... letting her know where the device is located... he is giving her a chance to prove her innocence and if he chooses to cooperate with her, she could take it off whenever she wanted to. She smiled.

By the time she returned to the hotel, the sun was back at the horizon. She knocked on Vincent's door and waited.

She looked into his eyes through the small gap on the door. His eyes were cold, emotionless like an observer. Like he was just watching, not living.

"There's a bar close by." She waited to see his reaction. "The villagers said ShinRa employees often drink there..."

He offered no response.

"Let's go." She smiled and held out her hand. He looked at the hand before him and nodded, brushing past her and closing the door.

Tifa rubbed her hands together to get rid of the awkwardness before trotting behind him, a grin spread across her face.

They took a seat in the corner, Vincent's choice.

She didn't remember this bar. In her years, it wasn't present anymore. As a habit, she studied each and every detail of the bar, the taste of the rum, the soft melody of the piano, and the decorations on the wall.

She turned over to look at Vincent. She never really stayed near Vincent as she did Cloud, or Yuffie while they travelled, Vincent was always alone, ready to blend in with oxygen.

He leaned against the chair, half his face under the collar, eyes downcast. Had Tifa been sitting further away, the dim lights would almost make him invisible.

Feeling a little bold after the third glass, Tifa stood up and walked to the piano. She won't allow Vincent to act like he's part of the oxygen gang anymore.

Vincent watched as she walked over, waited till that tune finished playing, before whispering to the woman playing the piano. The woman looked over in his direction and nodded to her.

He watched as Tifa sat down, fingers splayed across the piano. Slowly, a series of notes, powerful, beautiful yet sentimental flowed throughout the bar.

Vincent closed his eyes, and sipped on his rum, trying to avoid attention. Hoping that no one realises they were together.

He stopped and opened his eyes when he heard her voice. Clear, powerful, determined, yet soothing and gentle, like her.

Her eyes were locked on his.

* * *

And now, the end is here,

And so I face the final curtain.

My friend, I'll say it clear,

I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.

I've lived a life that's full,

I traveled each and every highway.

And more, much more than this,

I did it my way!

Regrets, you've had a few.

But then again, too few to mention.

You did what you had to do and saw it through without exemption.

You planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway.

And more, much more than this,

You did it your way!

For what is a man, what has he got?  
If not himself, then he has naught  
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels  
The record shows we took the blows and did it our way!

* * *

The entire bar looked in her direction as she sang the last note, the melody, from soothing to explosive. Slowly, a man closest to her stood and clapped. And soon, another followed, and another. Soon, she was engulfed by a full blown applause by the audience. Even the bar owner clapped.

But Vincent was gone.

Author's notes: typed all these on my phone. Received a wonderful review which inspired me. So I'm back.

Yes, "my way" is originally sung by a guy. But imagine Tifa's voice singing it. Omg eargasm.

Ok Toodles.

Will update soon


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